


Hard Pressed

by ghostofnoodlewrap



Series: Vaguely interconnected fics where Jon and Martin are kinky [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (but only mildly), Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Body Dysphoria, Bondage, Canon Asexual Character, Consensual Non-Consent, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Tickling, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofnoodlewrap/pseuds/ghostofnoodlewrap
Summary: Martin has been totally content in his relationship with an asexual. It never crossed his mind that asexuality does not translate to a low libido, or that Jon might be kinky.OrJon can get into the mood for sex so long as he is touched the right way first.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Vaguely interconnected fics where Jon and Martin are kinky [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808656
Comments: 80
Kudos: 480





	1. Chapter 1

Jon smells like coconut oil shampoo and plain soap. He’s the sort of person to shower before bed rather than in the morning. He smelled like that in the dream too and Martin is almost close enough to that dream state to bring up that smell - the same as the taste of Jon’s skin on his tongue, the scrabble of his nails on Martin’s back, the hitching noises he made as Martin drove into him.

Oh. 

One of those dreams then.

Martin finds himself achingly hard against Jon’s back. Jon, who is sleep-soft in an oversized cotton shirt and also very much not the sort of person who enjoys this sort of thing. He might be in for soft kisses, gentle hand-holding, and the occasional tender embrace, but sex just isn’t Jon. God, Martin hopes he wasn’t moving in his sleep. God, Martin hopes that Jon is actually asleep. He never seems to get enough.

He pulls back a few inches from Jon, enough so that there’s nothing untoward pressing into him. Martin mourns the loss of the warm press of Jon’s body along his front. He should take care of the problem in his pants. Needs to take care of the problem in his pants if he’s going to get back to sleep tonight.

It’s still a travesty to actually let go of Jon. Martin self-indulgently strokes his hair a couple of times. It’s still a little damp.

Jon flails for him when he gets up. Apparently he isn’t entirely dead to the world, although Martin suspects he was most of the way asleep. He didn’t stir at having his hair touched. Jon rolls over and blinks, bleary eyed, up at Martin. He reaches out to Martin, all grey-scale in the darkness, and Martin is helpless. No choice but to go back to Jon’s waiting arms.

Martin finds Jon soft and pliant in his arms. He doesn’t bind at night and this close to the border of sleep the stress-lines his forehead gets in the day smooth away. Jon loops his arms about Martin’s shoulders and rubs their faces together gently before burrowing into Martin’s chest. Martin, for his part, manages to keep Jon’s hips a few inches from his own to preserve his dignity. Having Jon in his arms like this isn’t exactly helping the situation with his dick.

“Bad dream?” Jon murmurs. “You were making noise.”

“A good one.” Martin says, patting Jon’s back. “You were there.”

He can feel Jon’s lips curl against his collar bone. One finger traces a pattern on his shoulder blade, although he can’t work out what it’s supposed to be. If it’s even supposed to be anything at all.

“I have something I need to do in the bathroom.” Martin tries to extract himself, but Jon does a surprisingly good impression of an octopus, even if he’s missing half of the limbs.

“No, stay.” It would come out sounding like a demand if Jon weren’t half asleep.

Jon rolls so that he’s sprawled half across Martin. His chest and stomach are soft across Martin’s torso, and he’s a heavy grounding weight. It’s a position Martin thinks he could probably get to sleep in, feeling safe and protected. The new position also serves to get Martin’s erection jabbing into Jon.

“Oh,” Jon says in repetition of Martin’s early thoughts. “That sort of dream.”

“I’m just going to head to the bathroom.” Martin says. It comes out in a rush before Jon has the chance to kick him out of bed. It’s awkward, yes, but it’s not as if he can control every bodily function. Sometimes you just wake up in the middle of the night hard. Especially after dreams where Jon was moaning your name and begging for more.

Jon’s arms tighten around Martin. “You can stay.” He says. “I don’t mind.”

“But I want to… And you don’t...” Martin just can’t bring the right words to mind. The right way to phrase it without raising Jon’s ire.

“I don’t mind sex.” Jon says. He reaches up to kiss Martin, but his nose wrinkles at both of their morning breath. “You can rub against me. Or - my hand.”

God, even the thought of Jon’s hands on him has his dick twitching. Jon can probably feel it too, because his lips curl into a smile again. He shifts on Martin’s torso in a way that feels bloody deliberate and the friction it brings over Martin’s crotch has him groaning.

“Are you sure?” Martin asks, because while their relationship thus far has been lovely. It has also been largely sexless. And he was content with that! He really was. But...

He feels rather than sees Jon’s nod. “Wouldn’t offer unless I was. We can talk in the morning. I’m far too tired for this.”

Jon pushes in impossibly closer to him. Martin doesn’t move, but one of Jon’s hands trails down from shoulder to hip. His fingers stop when they hit the elastic waistband of Martin’s boxers - the only thing he wore to bed. It’s too warm for thick pajamas when he’s sharing the bed with a space heater that calls itself Jon. His finger trails along Martin’s waistband and it sends a flock of butterflies rioting in Martin’s stomach. Or perhaps, somewhere lower than that.

“Okay?” Jon asks him.

“Y-yeah.”

Then his hand is beneath Martin’s boxers and wrapping around his cock in quick succession. To be honest, there’s little finesse in it. Jon’s hand pumps up and down in a steady rhythm and the friction is a little too much on the wrong side of dry, but it’s not enough to get him to stop. Fuck if he’ll ever ask Jon to stop. Martin knows it will be enough to get him there. 

He rubs up and down Jon’s back in return, hoping it conveys how pleasant Jon is making him feel. Jon himself shivers and presses sweet little kisses against Martin’s clavicle.

Martin wonders about reciprocating, but Jon hasn’t asked him to, or given him any indication that he’s in the mood to be touched. If he even likes being touched at all. So he settles for stroking Jon’s back, because that at least appears to be appreciated.

“I’m close.” Martin whispers a few minutes later, when it’s all built up and his toes are curling. Jon nods in response and pulls Martin’s cock out of his boxers before he can make a mess of them. A few pumps later and he’s spilling over Jon’s hand.

Martin flounders for a tissue from the box on the nightstand. He manages to grab one, although the rest of the box ends up on the floor. Martin uses it to wipe clean Jon’s hand and his own penis, the second of which gets tucked back away. The tissue gets crumpled up and thrown on the floor, and if they’re lucky, someone will remember to put it in the bin before it gets stepped on.

“Are you, ah, good?” Martin asks.

And Martin can feel the way Jon’s thighs press together, the slow roll his hips make. The little puff of air as he exhales through his nose and the noise he makes in the back of his throat that isn’t quite loud enough to be a moan.

“I’m a bit turned on,” Jon admits, “but I’m too tired to get off right now.”

Martin nods, and drops a kiss into Jon’s messy bedhead. He feels Jon relax against him. It’s easy to get back to sleep after that, sated and with Jon in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Jon uses feminine terminology for his genitals.  
> -Martin is probably not as informed as asexuality as he thought he was.  
> -Kink negotiation. Like, a lot of kink negotiation. I couldn't get them to stop talking.  
> -Brief discussion of consensual non-consent.

“Tickle you?” Martin says, like he heard Jon incorrectly when he said ‘Martin, I want you to tie me up and tickle me.’

“Yes, Martin, I want you to tickle me.” Jon says as if it’s a totally normal thing to bring up over a mid-morning cup of tea. He did mention talking about, well, sex stuff in the morning, but this wasn’t how Martin imagined it would be brought up.

“And that’s sexual to you?” Martin asks. It’s not like he’s a stranger to kink, but he didn’t expect someone like Jon to be so out there.

“Yes. I mean, I’d want you to fuck me afterwards.” Jon’s very attractive when he blushes, rose pink over brown skin “Preferably, you’ll tell me you’ll stop tickling me if you get to fuck me.”

“I didn’t know you could have sex.” Martin blurts out.

He’s just put his foot in his mouth so hard he’s lucky to still have teeth. Jon’s mouth is turned to a grimace and there’s a wet sucking noise as he draws air through his teeth.

“Trans people can have sex just like any cis person!” There’s probably some damage control needed, because Jon looks beyond pissed off now.

“I didn’t mean! I know trans people can have sex. You being trans does not stop me from wanting sex with you. It’s not that. It’s just. Aren’t you asexual?”

“Asexual people can have sex too. Can enjoy sex, even.” Jon says.

The fury isn’t exactly gone from Jon’s face, but it’s softer now. As if asexuality is more acceptable to be uninformed about. In some ways, Martin suspects that is often the case. Martin knew a little bit about transgender people before starting at the Archives, but he didn’t even know people could be asexual before he met Jon.

“They can?” It’s news to Martin. He feels a little under-informed, but Jon’s wearing the face of a man who’s had to explain his sexuality hundreds of times.

“Being asexual means I don’t feel sexual attraction. I can’t look at people and decide whether or not I’d sleep with them if I got the chance - there’s no ‘I wonder what his cock would feel like inside me’ or ‘I’d like to eat her out.’ Porn does nothing for me.”Jon breaks off, his face twisted into a grimace like he’s picturing something unpleasant.

“That doesn’t sound like you want sex.” Martin says.

It’s not his intention to pressure Jon into sex! Yes, sex is great, but it’s not like it’s a requirement to make a relationship work. Nothing sexual happened between them before last night and that hasn’t stopped him from loving Jon.

“I still have a libido, though.” Je says. “I get, well, horny, especially the week or so after I’ve taken T. It can really ramp up your sex drive. I’ve always found it more satisfying to get off with someone else rather than by myself.”

“And that means?” Martin asks.

“I’m sorry that I’m not sexually attracted to you, Martin.” Jon takes Martin’s hands in his when he sees the look on Martin’s face. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to have sex with you. I like sex, and I’ve found it can be very romantic when you’re doing it with someone you love. I just need to get in the right headspace first to get turned on.”

“Which is what the tickling is for.” Martin concludes.

It’s not the strangest kink Martin has ever heard of, but he’s certainly not participated in anything like it before. But there aren’t any alarm bells running through his head at the thought of trying it. In fact, the picture of Jon laughing and writhing away from Martin’s hands is… Well it’s yes.

“Tickling isn’t the only thing that turns me on.” Jon confesses. “I thought hardballing you in with one of the more extreme things I like would break the ice a little and make it easier for us to come up with something a little more normal.”

“I’m not going to kink shame you, Jon!” Martin says.

Honestly, the pairing of Jon and kink was unexpected, but entirely welcome. A while ‘tie me up and tickle me’ is a little bit different to the ‘tie me up and hit me’ or ‘tie me up and edge me’ that Martin has experienced in the past, it still sounds incredibly hot.

“I am not kinky.” Jon huffs. “Alright, perhaps I’m a bit kinky.” He concedes at Martin’s pointed look.

Jon takes a sip of the tea Martin made him, which has been sitting on one side of the table cooling. There’s a plate of biscuits too, but Jon has never had that much of a sweet tooth and guiltily, Martin knew when he bought them that he’d end up eating them all himself.

“It normally takes actual physical stimulation to turn me on.” Jon says. “Tickling is one way, but stroking and petting me usually also works, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get a professional massage without thoroughly embarrassing myself.”

“That’s good to know.” Martin says. “But I want to try tying you up and tickling you. It sounds…” Well, the mental pictures it brings, of Jon breathless and squirming, are enough to make Martin’s cock stir.

Jon smiles around another sip of tea. He’s got thin, elegant wrists. They’d look good wrapped in rope.

“I’ve done it before,” Jon says, “so I know there are a few things we need to discuss first. We’ll need a safeword. Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

“I am.” Martin says. It’s not actually his go to, but he has used it before. And it’s easy enough to remember

“We can use that then. I need you to understand that I am going to say ‘no’ and beg you to stop, but I want you to ignore me when I do.” Jon has a very serious look on his face.

“That’s okay.” Martin says. “To be clear, is this going in the direction of a rape roleplay?”

Martin’s not uncomfortable with the idea, per se, but it’s not something he’s participated in before. He pictures Jon, naked, tied up, and begging him not to be fucked even as Martin enters him. Then he feels guilty about the hot flush that image brings.

“Not really?” Jon says. “More in response to the tickling. I can’t say I’m not interested in a darker fantasy than that, but I don’t think that’s a conversation to be had today.”

Martin nods and files his thoughts away to be returned to another day. Maybe next time, he’ll be able to suggest a scene to Jon. Giving his poor, tired boyfriend a long massage sounds like a good place to start. Particularly if massage will make Jon 'thoroughly embarrass himself.’ Martin’s plenty interested in finding out exactly what that means.

“If I get dysphoric and tell you to stop touching my chest, I don’t want you to ignore it. That’s something I probably won’t safeword for, I’ll just tell you to stop.”

“You want to do this with your binder off?” Martin asks.

Jon has never let Martin see his naked chest. He binds longer than Martin really thinks he should and always sleeps with a t-shirt on. One that’s several sizes too big and doesn’t cling. Lately, he’s taken to wearing one of Martin’s and it makes Martin itch to keep his hands off him.

“It works a lot better without it on. It just covers up too much skin. My ribs are very ticklish.” Jon takes a deep breath. “My nipples are also very sensitive and I like to have my breasts played with. But it can flip to dysphoria very quickly, so maybe check in with me if you’re playing with my chest?”

Martin nods. “What should I call your, um, bits?”

“Chest for up top.” Jon replies. “The dysphoria really isn’t really bad down below. So more traditionally feminine words are fine there. Clit, vagina. Or cunt, I guess?” 

It’s unfortunate that Martin was taking a drink just then, because he comes close to spraying Jon with tea when he hears uptight professor-type Jonathon Sims say the word ‘cunt.’

“Alright, alright.” Martin says to himself once he’s regained his composure. “I never thought I’d hear you say that word. You look like the kind of person who would only swear in Latin.”

“Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo.” Jon says with a grin.

Martin’s over-embellished grip on Latin isn’t good enough to translate that. It doesn’t stop his mouth from growing dry as he hears Jon say it. It’s a pity he has more pressing things to ask for than a translation. Or possibly a demonstration.

“And of course you know how to do that too. Why don’t you run me through how you want the scene to go so we’re both on the same page.”

“First I strip down and you tie me to the headboard.” Jon starts.

“With what?” Martin asks. 

There’s not exactly a lot of stuff in the cabin and they’re pretty far from civilization. Neither of them have found a stashed box of sex toys or bondage equiptment either. While Martin can’t speak for Daisy’s proclivities in the bedroom, it’s hardly as if BDSM gear would be high on her list of things to stock this place with.

“I - uh. There’s got to be some rope around here somewhere? I think I also packed a couple of ties.”

Martin nods. “I think Daisy might also have some handcuffs hidden away somewhere.”

Handcuffs or something similar are the sort of thing Daisy would ensure a safehouse had, although she probably didn’t have the same idea in mind for them.

“I don’t think handcuffs will work.” Jon looks a little concerned at the idea. “Unless they’re padded, that is, which I don’t think they will be. I’m going to struggle, and metal cuffs would cut up my wrists.”

“I think I can figure out some rope.” Martin says. He wasn’t in Scouts, but it also won’t be the first time he’s tied someone up.

It’s a pity he never did take that shibari class. Jon would look lovely in a lattice of ropework and Martin has no idea how to go about beginning to tie one on him. Martin idly wonders how flexible Jon is.

“I’d rather you didn’t tie my legs down this time, or at least not to start with. I might kick a bit, so you’ll have to pin my legs down. Is that okay by you?”

“Oh, that’s…” Jon bucking, trying to throw Martin off him and being unable to. Jon struggling to break Martin’s hold and going still and compliant when he realises Martin is that much stronger than him. He’d be ashamed to admit it, but the thought makes Martin’s mouth go dry in exactly the right way. “I can do that.” He says weakly.

“Good. Then you tickle me. You could also probably get me off a few times before you fuck me. A previous partner used a bullet vibe on me too, but we sadly don’t have one.”

Martin’s mouth feels like sandpaper when he swallows. “And I tell you I’ll stop tickling you if I get to fuck you?”

Jon’s eyes flutter closed and the soft noise he makes could almost be called a moan. He nods. Martin’s already begun a little catalogue of ‘Jon noises’ in his head and that’s an entry he’ll treasure.

“Just a few questions.” Martin says, and he waits for Jon’s nod. “Is there anywhere that you aren’t ticklish or don’t want me touching?”

“You can touch me anywhere unless I tell you to stop. Like I said earlier, it will probably be my chest and it might not be a safeword. I’m not ticklish on the soles of my feet or my scalp, but you can still touch those.”

“When you said you want me to fuck you, to clarify-”

“Inside me, front entrance, with a condom on.” The thought of being inside Jon has Martin with more than a semi. “There’s no risk involved, but I don’t like the mess.”

“I thought I was being a little presumptuous packing those.” Martin says, mainly to himself, although it sounds like Jon must have found the box of condoms he put in his suitcase. “So when are we going to do this?”

Soon. Soon is the answer Martin wants to hear. God, he can’t wait to get Jon under him.

“Tomorrow, or maybe the day after?” Jon says.

“Tomorrow works. Wow. Right then. I’m just going to go, take a little, you know. Private time.” Martin rambles a little, but in his defense, he really needs to go and put a hand on his cock. There’s not that much blood left over to run his brain.

Martin stands. He’s only drunk half of his tea, but there are more pressing issues to deal with. Namely, the issue pressing into the fly of his jeans.

“Are you going to wank?” Jon asks.

“Uh, yeah.” He says. “This has…”

He trails off awkwardly. Martin looks at Jon and Jon looks at Martin. The tea doesn’t look at anyone. It doesn’t have eyes.

“Talking about this turned you on?” Jon looks a little confused at the prospect, but Martin just nods. The mere thought of some of the things Jon suggested Martin might like to do to him is enough to get arousal curling in his belly.

“We’ve just had a conversation about exactly how I want to have sex with you.” Jon points out.

Jon’s eyebrow raises. Just the left one. Martin never learned how to do that with his. The implication of Jon’s statement is obvious. But-

“We said tomorrow.” Martins says. “If you’ve changed your mind I can try to find some rope. Or maybe one of your ties. Are they still in your bag?”

Jon’s got that sappy look on his face. The one that means ‘god I love this man, but sometimes he’s an idiot’. He’s been making it more often lately. And he made it quite a lot to start with.

“It’s our first time, let’s go for something a little more vanilla.” Jon says.

“Oh. That makes sense. Are you, uh, turned on?” Martin asks.

He looks down at Jon’s crotch, not that there would be much of a bulge there anyway. It is predictably flat as always.

“Not really. But if you wait a few minutes, we can have ourselves a bit of a snog and I might get there. It worked last night, and that wasn’t the first time you’ve turned me on.”

“It wasn’t?”

Oh.

“No.” Then Jon says softly “sit back down Martin. If this doesn’t work, I’ll release you to the bathroom to have a wank.”

The idea of getting to be inside of Jon is certainly worth the delay it might bring. Martin sits back on the wooden kitchen chair. Jon walks around the table and drops himself into Martin’s lap, straddling his right thigh. His hands drape over Martin’s shoulder and he leans in for a kiss.

The first kiss is soft and gentle. The second one, not so much. Then Jon opens his mouth. He tastes like tea. Martin supposes he probably also tastes like tea. Martin angles his head to deepen the kiss, gently touching their tongues together.

It’s agonising, to be honest, to not have Jon further up on his lap where the weight of his body might provide some relief to the situation brewing in Martin’s trousers. Remembering what Jon told him, Martin runs his hands firmly along Jon’s shoulders and down his back. His thumbs find a little strip of skin between Jon’s shirt and his trousers, and when he strokes it, Jon shivers.

Martin reaches up the back of Jon’s shirt. With his binder on, there’s not a lot of bare skin he can get at, so he uses a firm touch and hopes Jon can feel it through the stiff fabric. He kisses a path down the elegant line of Jon’s neck, noses his way beneath the collar of his shirt to lick at Jon’s shoulder.

Jon shifts on Martin’s lap. Not enough for Martin to know for sure, but…

He scrapes his teeth gently along the skin of Jon’s shoulder, and he gives this soft little mewl that shoots straight to Martin’s groin. He fidgets on Martin’s lap like he can’t find a comfortable way to sit.

Martin kisses Jon’s lips again, and he’s eager and pliant. His hand, tangled in Martin’s hair before, slides around to cup his jaw. This time, his hips move in a circle that’s definitely him grinding down on Martin’s thigh. When Martin pulls back, Jon bites his lip.

“Are you?” Martin asks.

Jon nods. “Take me to bed, Martin.”

Jon is, perhaps, a little heavier than Martin expected. He yelps as Martin hefts him up, then laughs as he tightens his grip around Martin’s neck. There’s really only one room in the cabin. It’s not far to the bed.

Jon deserves rose petals, Martin thinks, but they’ll have to settle for warm musty blankets. He lays Jon down in the bed and isn’t that a pretty picture, salt and pepper hair spread on the pillows and blush high in his cheeks. Martin climbs atop his lover.

It smells like home. Like coconut oil. Jon’s legs curl up around Martin and his arms tug him down. They meet in a breathless kiss. The placement of Jon’s hands isn’t shy, teasing around the waistband of Martin’s jeans, then sliding down the back of them to encourage their hips together.

Martin grinds down into him and Jon moans, his hips lifting in response. The clear signs of Jon’s enjoyment stoke the fire, and Martin does it again and again until Jon is crying out. He could listen to those noises all night.

Jon’s fingers push Martin’s jumper and t-shirt up his chest until it gets to the point where it’s just easier to take it off. The cool air prickles on Martin’s skin, but Jon in his arms is enough to take that away. He fingers the bottom of Jon’s shirt.

“Can I take this off you?” Martin asks.

“I don’t know.” Jon says in a small voice. “I want your hands on me, but not my chest out.”

“How about I go dig out the condoms, and you decide how naked you feel comfortable in getting?” Martin suggests.

The loss of Jon’s warmth across his front leaves him achingly cold, but the condoms never got unpacked. And Jon needs a moment to himself. There’s movement behind him, so there’s definitely a wardrobe change going on. Or perhaps a wardrobe malfunction as he hears Jon swear.

“Are you alright?” Martin asks. He knows better than to turn around right now.

“I’ve got it.” Jon says. A moment later, there’s the sound of something hitting the floor, then a little more fabric rustling before the squeak of the bedsprings as Jon lays back down.

Martin digs through the bag he packed. Most of the items in it were thrown in in a hurry, but he specifically remembers burying the box of condoms deep. Like he was afraid Jon would spot them. He finds the box, unopened, but in date, and brandishes it triumphantly at Jon.

He almost ends up dropping it.

Jon’s on the bed and wearing one of Martin’s hoodies. He’s only wearing the hoodie, as far as Martin can tell. It’s long enough to hit him mid thigh, but it’s been pushed up around Jon’s waist. His knees are bent and his legs spread. Jon’s watching Martin and there’s a hand between his legs.

“Get over here.” Jon says, and Martin’s feet move quicker than his brain can really account for.

Jon greets him with open arms that wrap around his back and pull him down. Martin can feel dampness on the fingers brushing his right shoulder, and he shivers, knowing exactly where that came from. Jon doesn’t kiss him again, opting instead to strip Martin out of his jeans, which come off with a bit of wiggling. He squeezes the lump he finds in the front of Martin’s pants and Martin groans, long and low.

“I think I’m going to need more stretching.” Jon says. Christ, Jon is going to kill him.

“Can I?” Martin’s not sure exactly what he’s asking for beyond the fact that whatever it is, he wants it.

Jon grabs at Martin’s wrist and drags it down until it’s pressed between his legs. It’s all damp wet heat down there and Jon shivers as Martin’s fingertips brush against him.

“Do you know what to do, or have I got to show you how to find my clitoris?” Jon asks.

Martin presses his thumb down and Jon’s answering moan is proof enough that instruction on finding his clit won’t be needed. His fingers slip inside Jon easily, a simple glide with no resistance. The way Jon’s muscles flutter around him is fascinating and he could probably finger-fuck Jon for days seeking out all the noises he makes. But Jon asked to be stretched out.

He scissors his fingers. Jon’s head drops down onto Martin’s shoulder and Martin times the movement of his fingers to Jon’s pants. Honestly, he’s not sure that Jon really notices that. It must get to a point where Jon considers the stretching to be satisfactory, because he starts whispering into Martin’s ear ‘get inside me.’

Martin scrambles for the condom. Drops it twice. His fingers shake as he tears open the packaging, mostly because Jon is divesting him of his underwear at the same time and he’s certainly not keeping his hands to himself as he does so.

Jon snatches the opened condom from Martin fingers, pinches the tip, and applies it to Martin’s penis in a motion that definitely looks practiced. Without further preamble, he climbs into Martin’s lap, lines himself up, and sinks down onto Martin’s cock.

The tight wet clench around him is sudden and devastatingly good. His hips thrust as well as they can, but Jon has almost all the leverage in this position. Jon uses it to his advantage, picking his hips up and thrusting back down in a steady rhythm. One hand rubs at his clit.

“Touch me.” Jon says.

“Where?” Jon seems to have rubbing at his clit handled by himself.

“My back. Or my sides. Not my chest - I’ve taken my binder off.” Jon says.

The parts of Jon’s chest pressed to Martin’s torso certainly do feel softer than usual. The hoodie is baggy enough that it doesn’t reveal much, which is probably intentional.

“Is this position okay?” Martin asks. “I can feel…” your tits pressed against my chest he doesn’t say. “...Things.”

“It’s good.” Jon says. “I just don’t want to see them right now.”

True to his word, the expanse of Jon’s back is smooth (mostly - there are always scars) and naked beneath the hoodie. He shudders as Martin runs his hands up and down his back. Martin’s pretty damn close to coming, but maybe, just maybe Jon’s closer than he is and Martin can get him off first.

Martin angles his hips and thrusts up into Jon as best he can, which is met with some appreciative groans. Then he takes a risk and rakes his nails down Jon’s back, hard enough to sting, but not enough to leave marks. It seems to pay off, because Jon shouts and he clenches down around Martin in a way that indicates that he’s coming. Hard, by the feel of it too.

Jon’s hand falls away from his clit and his thrusts slow to the point that he’s just sitting with Martin inside of him. His eyes are closed and Martin has definitely not seen enough of that dreamy little smile.

“Do you just come?” Martin asks. Just to be sure.

“Yes.” Jon says, and Martin might just die for this man.

“Can I keep going?” It’s taking approximately forty percent of Martin’s brainpower to hold his hips still.

Jon nods. “I’m pretty tired and my legs are cramping. How do you want me?”

He’s asking to change positions, Martin realises. That just opens up a world of possibilities. Hands and knees, or on their sides with Martin pressed in behind Jon. He’d probably finish Martin in his mouth if he just asked. But there’s something almost sacred about Jon on his back with Martin above him. There’s nothing wrong with missionary, especially for a first time.

“Just lay back.” Martin says, and Jon topples backwards. He looks as lovely spread among the sheets as he did the first time.

Martin slides back into Jon, slides back home. He loses himself to the rhythm, and to the way Jon clings to him. His hips stutter twice, deep inside, then the world falls away.

When Martin comes back to himself, his cock is softening within Jon, and Jon is brushing back sweaty curls from his forehead. Martin withdraws and just about manages not to collapse on top of Jon.

“Are you good?” He asks Jon, because Jon definitely mentioned something about being capable of multiple orgasms earlier on.

“Yes, but God did I ever need that! It’s been far too long.” Martin winces as Jon’s fingers touch his overly sensitive penis, but it’s just to remove the used condom.

He hears Jon throw the condom and makes a silent prayer that it was both tied off before hand, and made it into a bin. He isn’t too hopeful about either.

Martin is feeling warm and boneless. It almost feels like he’s missing something, until he realises the post orgasmic shame that usually hits after mastrubating isn’t present. He wraps himself around Jon and presses his nose into the warm cotton of the hoodie. A nap is feeling really good right now.

Jon squirms out from under him and Martin makes the appropriate noises of discontent and tries to tighten his grip on Jon.

“Stop it you big lug. I need to get to a washcloth.” He reluctantly lets Jon go. 

It’s perhaps a little over dramatic to say that Martin is bereft without him, but he certainly does sulk. Not for long though, because Jon comes wandering back over with clean underwear on and a book. He climbs back into bed and lets Martin cling to him limpidly.

The soft turning of the pages of Jon’s book are the last thing Martin is aware of.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -I mean, there was a whole scene negotiation in the last chapter. If it was in there, it's probably coming up.  
> -Arguably some consensual non-consent regarding Jon being tickled.

“You need to tie me tighter than that.” Jon says.

Martin has looped thin rope around his wrists several times as well as around the bars on the headboard of their bed. Jon twists his wrists, indicating how loose the tie is.

“Are you sure?” Martin asks. He has no intention of actually hurting Jon and that includes cutting off his circulation.

“The whole point is that I’m going to struggle.” He tugs sharply on his wrists a few times and the knotwork begins to unravel. “See.”

Martin sighs, and reties him. The second time it meets Jon’s approval - not uncomfortably tight, but secure enough he can struggle to his heart’s content without being able to get free. There’s a sharp knife on the nightstand in case Martin needs to get him out of it quickly.

Jon’s on the bed, naked, with his hands stretched up above his head. His legs are still free, but there’s some more rope for them if Martin can’t stop Jon from kicking him. Martin was surprised at the size of Jon’s chest. His binder gets him so flat and Martin didn’t expect him to be as well endowed as he actually is. It would look pretty wrapped in rope too, but Martin doubts Jon would ever let him do that.

Jon sinks into the pillow under his head. He looks fairly relaxed. That’s about to change.

Martin moves to staddle Jon’s thighs. He isn’t hard in his boxers yet, but with his lover laid out helpless underneath him, Martin knows that is categorically not going to last. Jon smiles up at him. He doesn’t seem nervous, and that puts some of Martin’s nerves at ease.

“Do you remember the safeword?” Martin asks.

“Red for stop, yellow for a break, green to keep going.”

“And I won’t touch your chest if you tell me not to.” Martin finishes. But God does he ever want to get his hands on it. It’s ridiculous really, he’s not even sexually attracted to breasts, although Martin is now having to reconsider that assessment.

Jon nods “I’m fine with it at the moment. Remember that you can safeword too, if you feel uncomfortable.”

“Ah, right then.” Martin says. “Let’s get on with this.” He places his hands lightly on Jon’s sides and trails them down like a whisper.

Jon writhes. It seems he really wasn’t lying about being extremely ticklish. To the point where if Martin tried this with Jon standing up, his knees would probably buckle and he’d just crumple to the floor. Martin spreads his fingers and attacks Jon’s ribs.

“Martin, stop. No. No!” Jon tries to get away from Martin’s fingers, but with his hands bound he’s pretty much defenseless, laid out like a prize. He tries to buck Martin off his legs, but he isn’t strong enough.

God, do his tits bounce beautifully as he squirms. Even more so when Martin goes after Jon’s stomach, and his body tries to twist in response. Jon’s protests are interspersed with breathless laughter, but are still recognisable as pleas to stop. Martin ignores them. Like he was told to.

The gyration of Jon’s hips has a pretty physical effect on Martin, and it isn’t long before he’s straining against his boxers. It’s going to be very satisfying to watch Jon fall apart like this.

“No, Martin. Don’t. Don’t!” Jon says as he sees Martin’s hands approaching again.

“Don’t what?” Martin asks.

“Tickle me.” He says.

“Tickle you?” Martin smiles at the trick. “Alright.”

He descends back onto Jon again, tickling his ribs and hips. Jon pulls against the headboard hard enough that it creaks, but the bonds hold. Martin is suddenly very glad he retied Jon.

“Please stop. Please, I’ll do anything.” Jon manages to choke out between his laughter. Fuck, he’s laughing hard enough that he scarely has the time to breath.

“Anything?” Martin asks. “Even if I want your pretty cunt?”

Jon’s head shakes, so he apparently hasn’t had enough tickle torture. He wriggles his fingers across Jon’s chest and Jon squirms in response. Martin pinches one of Jon’s nipples, and Jon moans.

“Are you sure?” Martin asks. Pinching Jon’s other nipple also makes him moan. “It does sound like you’re enjoying this. You know, I think I’m going to tickle you until you beg me to fuck you.”

He squeezes both of Jon’s breasts at once, and Jon’s head lolls back on the pillow. That’s an open invitation if he’s ever seen one. He places a finger lightly against the bared column of Jon’s neck. The reaction is immediate - Jon’s shoulders scrunch up to protect his neck.

The problem Jon has is that with his hands tied up like this, every move he makes to protect a body part from Martin’s onslaught leaves a different one vulnerable. Martin moves to stroke gently at the hair in Jon’s armpits instead.

“No no no no no,” Jon chants, “Please stop. Just stop.”

Martin should probably feel guilty about how good ignoring Jon’s protests and feeling him squirm is. But Jon told him to do this. It’s all negotiated kink. He knows Jon is enjoying this. That he’s getting off on it.

“You’re laughing.” Martin says. “It doesn’t sound like you want to stop.”

Martin takes a moment to tickle Jon’s torso again, to watch his tits bounce if nothing else, before shifting back. Jon is already looking breathless and fucked out and he hasn’t even been touched.

Martin moves back to sit on Jon’s shins. He pushes Jon’s legs apart so he can get at Jon’s thighs to try tickling him there. The slit between his legs is noticeably wet. Martin runs a fingertip through it and Jon lets out this low groan. He doesn’t beg, so Martin decides it can be left alone for now and goes after Jon’s thighs instead.

If Jon had any leverage, his response would probably end up kicking Martin out of the bed. Instead, he’s just left bucking in vain. The noises he makes when Martin tickles his thighs and hips has broken down into something that cannot really be called words. His breath hitches when Martin thumbs along the crease of his hipbone and he groans wordlessly when Martin sinks the first of his fingers into him.

He’s wet and open enough that Martin can get a second finger in almost immediately. Martin’s thumb swipes over his clit. Jon’s laughter dies off pretty quick and he’s just left panting and moaning, his cunt clenching down on Martin’s fingers.

But Martin said he wouldn’t stop tickling Jon until he was begging to be fucked, and he’s not begging yet. He lifts his spare hand and attacks Jon’s waist. Jon writhes, driving Martin’s fingers into him deeper.

“No, God stop. Fuck, Martin, your hand. Stop. Stop!” He cries.

“Stop my hand?” Martin asks. “Like this?” He goes still inside Jon.

“No! Keep going, please keep going.” He begs. Martin is all too happy to oblige - with both hands. Jon bucks and trembles until he’s coming on Martin’s fingers.

Martin could probably break rocks with his dick at this point, but Jon has been so good and looks so pretty, panting and wrecked below him. He deserves another orgasm before getting properly fucked, Martin decides.

Martin pauses after he withdraws his fingers from within Jon. His partner looks up at him, and Martin almost considers showing mercy. Almost. He runs his hands up Jon’s sides with just enough pressure that it doesn’t tickle. Then he goes for the armpits.

Jon crumples, his voice sounds destroyed, somewhere between a scream and a laugh.

“Stop it! Stop, no, no, God please!” He wails. He’s more wrecked than before.

Martin keeps up the onslaught. Arms, pits, ribs, squeezes at his breasts just long enough to get Jon moaning before moving on to his stomach. But he still hasn’t broken down begging, even though Martin knows he’s desperate for it.

He slides two fingers into Jon, whose feet scrabble at the feeling. He clenches down hard.

“Can I go down on you?” Martin asks. “I know we didn’t discuss it, but-”

“Green.” Jon says. “Very green.” He'd probably push Martin’s head down his body if his hands were free.

Martin kisses Jon once, short and sweet, before working his way down Jon’s body. He drops a kiss on Jon’s ear, another on his neck. The bite he gives Jon’s shoulder isn’t deep enough to bruise, but still makes Jon groan. He cups Jon’s chest and licks at a nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

“Ugh, can you stop? With the...” Jon asks. It’s vague, but Martin understands.

Martin nods and shifts down Jon’s body. He tongues a little at Jon’s navel on the way down to slotting himself between Jon’s legs. Martin uses two fingers to spread Jon’s lips open, he licks from hole to clit and there’s a strangled cry from somewhere above him.

Martin smiles before sucking Jon’s clit into his mouth. His two fingers slide easily back into Jon’s hole, and the two fingers he was using to fuck Jon before quickly become three. He lifts his other hand and claws at Jon’s waist to get him laughing again.

“Yellow.” Jon says, and Martin freezes. “If you tickle me now, you are going to get kicked. You can’t hold my legs down in this position.”

“Do you want me to get the rope?” Martin asks.

Jon shakes his head. “Leave the tickling for now. I will kick you in the head if you don’t put your mouth back on me. Please make me come.”

He takes Jon’s clit back into his mouth and runs his tongue over it until he’s moaning. Jon’s so responsive that Martin might be able to just live down here, Jon’s praise the only thing he’d needs to sustain himself.

Jon’s hips start to rise up to meet each thrust of Martin’s fingers and Martin puts a hand on Jon’s hip to hold him down before he can chip one of Martin’s teeth.

“Martin, I’m going to-” is all he manages before he’s shivering through an orgasm. Martin helps him through it, thrusting his fingers until Jon’s breathing pattern evens back out.

“Good?” He asks.

Jon nods. “Give me a second.”

He leaves Jon’s crotch alone while he recovers from oversensitivity. He opts instead to run his hands lightly up and down Jon’s sides until he’s back to squirming and shouting ‘no’. God, he needs to be inside this man.

Martin hooks his thumbs into the top of his underwear and pulls them down. Jon watches, transfixed on the heavy cock that bobs up towards Martin’s stomach. He licks his lips.

He hovers over Jon, hands curled into claws, poised over Jon’s side and ready to deliver another onslaught of tickling.

“Please, Martin.” Jon whispers.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

He’s all too happy to comply. Martin smiles down at Jon. He uses one hand to spread Jon wide and the other to line himself up.

“Condom! Martin, condom.” Jon sounds slightly panicked.

Martin swears. “Shit, sorry Jon, genuinely forgot. Heat of the moment and all.”

Martin leans over and fumbles in the top drawer of the nightstand for the box. His fingers are almost too slippery to open the package. He rolls the little rubber sheath down over his cock, careful to do it right, because he can just picture how pissed Jon would be if the condom broke after all of this. At least the extra barrier may mean he won’t come as soon as he gets inside Jon.

“Sorry, Sorry. It wasn’t intentional or anything.”

“Just get back over here,” Jon says, “I’m waiting.”

“So romantic…” Martin says even as he slides back between Jon’s open legs. He strokes over Jon’s hip.

“I love you, now fuck me.”

Martin does not need to be told again.

Jon is warm and easy to slide into. He sighs when Martin gets himself fully seated and his eyes roll back as Martin starts to thrust. He donates one of his hands to rub at Jon’s clit, since he can’t get himself off with his hands tied.

When Martin leans over to kiss Jon, he has just enough coordination to kiss back, although it’s a sloppy thing that keeps being interrupted by both of their moans. After a while, Martin gives up the effort and just presses their cheeks together instead.

Jon’s moans keep getting louder and higher pitched, but in the end Martin just can’t hold on, grunting as he comes deep inside Jon. It takes a moment until he comes back to himself, but Jon is still making needy noises below him.

Martin slips out of Jon and replaces his softening cock with three fingers, and tries to keep up the same rhythm he was using on Jon before. Jon appears to appreciate it, because his moans build until he’s bearing down on Martin’s fingers and his face scrunches up. He’s pretty sure than Jon just came, but Martin keeps thrusting his fingers just in case.

“I came, Martin! You can stop now. Jesus.”

“You don’t want another one?” Martin double checks as he withdraws his fingers and wipes them on the blankets. It’s kind of disgusting, but there’s already a sizable damp patch under Jon.

“As tempting as that is, I’m already not certain about whether I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”  
Jon says.

“I’ll untie you then.” Martin says. “If that’s alright.”

Jon nods, and Martin moves to crouch over the knot at Jon’s wrists. The way Jon’s been pulling at it has really tightened the knot work, and Martin considers cutting it away with the knife that’s on the bedside table in case he had to get Jon free quickly, but it would be a pity to ruin the rope when Martin would like to do something like this again. There’s only so much of it in the cabin.

Martin picks at the rope until he finds a strand that moves when he tugs it. A little manipulation and the whole lattice of knotwork falls apart. Jon sits up, rubbing his wrists.

“Are you alright?” Martin asks, because this wasn’t supposed to hurt Jon.

“My wrists and shoulders are a bit sore.” Jon says. When he sees Martin’s stricken face he adds “It was always going to happen. I’m alright, although I’d like it if you’d rub my shoulders for me.”

“That’s good. Maybe if you sat on the edge of the bed and I was behind you - yes like that.” Martin says.

Jon stops him. “Do you mind if I put some clothes on?” He asks “I’m not really comfortable being naked right now, since we’ve finished having sex.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah, sure” Martin says.

Jon nods, and he stands. He then picks up Martin’s discarded T-shirt and climbs into it. It’s large enough to be a dress on Jon and God is Martin ever soft on this man. He clambers back into position and Martin rubs at his shoulders until the tension bleeds out of them. Then he passes Jon one of the water bottles they placed on the nightstand beforehand.

“Did that go like you wanted?” Martin asks.

“God, yes. You really got into it too.” Jon says.

Martin mulls over it a moment. There’s certainly truth in Jon’s statement.

“I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected. I think I’d like to do it again sometime. Instead of tying your legs down, have you ever tried using a spreader bar? That might work well. If you want to try it. And if we could get hold of one.”

Jon laughs. “You like that idea?”

“I think you’d look very pretty in one. Is it alright to call you pretty? I know that it’s normally a feminine term, and you’re not a woman, but I think you’re very pretty and-”

“I can be pretty for you Martin.” Jon says. “Is there anything in particular you want from me in bed?”

Martin’s silent for a moment. There’s so many things he could ask Jon to do, but there’s a few in particular that make his mouth go dry. And one thing that’s probably going to be a hard yes or a hard no. He’s not even sure if it would be proper to ask about it.

Jon must sense the tension in Martin. “Out with it! The worst that could happen is I’d say no.”

“Y-your chest.” Martin stutters. “You liked me playing with it, at least to start with?”

Jon nods. He’s hunched over, so that Martin’s old shirt pools in the chest and the outlines of his breasts are more obscured. He does always wear excessively baggy clothing to sleep in, but Martin thought it was more of a comfort thing before this. Although, he guesses it still really is.

“I’m gay.” Martin says. “I’ve never looked at a woman’s chest - not that you’re a woman, but I hope you understand where I’m goin with this - and thought about it sexually. But I really enjoyed playing with your chest, and watching it move when you wriggled. And I was wondering what your thoughts on me pushing them together and you know…”

“To be clear,” Jon says, “You’re talking about fucking my tits?”

“I - uh. Yes. That.” Martin says very eloquently.

Jon is silent for a long while. “We could try it. We’d also need to talk about it more. A lot more. I’m honestly not sure if I could handle it. Do you have any other kinks you want to bring up?”

“Do I ever.”

“Hit me with them.” Jon says. “I’m all ears.”


End file.
